


Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

by lovemewrighte



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, EXO - Freeform, M/M, Sebaek - Freeform, hunbaek, sebaeknation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemewrighte/pseuds/lovemewrighte
Summary: this is the deep and dying breath of,the love that we’ve been working on.





	Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

**Author's Note:**

> inspired with John Mayer’s Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. 
> 
> angst!attempt （πーπ）

* * *

* * *

Terrifying.

It's terrifying how something consistent could be bent in a blink of an eye. Given the thing how the cold breeze of the wind that rushes along the night street of Seoul fails to serve the same euphoria anymore that has been filling him every time it kisses his delicate skin, and how the flashing of skyscrapers and the night lights of the city don't glow on his eyes anymore withal tickle the prowess of tingling sensation inside him.

If there is a thing Baekhyun has never been fan of, it's the gradual changing of anything that surrounds him. Any concept, anywhere, on anything it could be applied to. Consistency is something he had always treasure, and something he had always hope seizing on.

It's not the freezing airy blows at nights that has been making him shiver for the past days, it's not the streak of orange light from streetlights hitting his face that makes him breathtaking yet fails to be noticed, it’s not the creeping sound of the casual night roadtrips that make him aghast, it's not the sole solitude that leaves him quivering, it’s not the lonesome that he fails to grasp on— it’s the living and kicking fact that there’s something he’s wanting to elude from but continuously fails as the bell of its constancy pounders and lingers on his mind.

His body met the cold pavements of the outskirts, head tilted up with eyes reflecting none but the past of universe. None of the spark it once showed, none even a single trail of happiness, enthusiasm, passion. His mind becomes abstract in that span of moment, thoughts propped as galaxies making way and delving into his whole system, as he subsequently tries to grasp little by little the thing he had dread for ever since.

“Byun Baekhyun.”

There he is.

The subject of his masterpieces, his centerfold, the art himself, the one he breathes for, his all.

“Oh Sehun.”

Doesn’t it pain, doesn’t it thunder, doesn’t he quiver, with the numerous facts he need to embrace? One of the dreading fact, how his given name rolls on the tongue of the hombre like it’s just a trail of past, nonchalance, and fails to serve him all the longing that knocks him off every time the clock strikes at 3 am?

He feels himself scraping his knees, he feels himself drowning in so much things, yet ironically hits as of all so much things, he doesn’t know what wrecks him the most anymore. He’s too secluded with whatnots, he doesn’t know where to start, he doesn’t know what to point out.

With all the last trail of bravery, he emitted it with facaded voice, “What is it, Sehun?”

Looking at the lad makes himself feel a lot of things, wanted, unwanted, right, wrong. He’s been always afraid, god, he never realized of how much he’s been always afraid just because he himself was blinded by the things he believed in and continued to live in. Now, he’s known himself, he’s afraid. His own vulnerability strangles him, thoughts— it has been always powerful. It continues to eat him whole.

“Baekhyun.. I’m sorry.”

The other party mutters with a muffled voice. He steeks his eyes close, lower lip meeting his teeth, head tilting up afterwards to meet the eyes of the former with none smile plastered on his face.

_God, we are so doomed._

“I do not want to hear your apologies.”

He’s always been so tired, but he never made any syllable hearable, he kept it, as for he continued believing on the thing he had always lurk on— the idea of how much this person was worth fighting for until the end, of how he kept his optimistic side, of how he always believed the lad will always be beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

How long has it been, anyway? 2 weeks? 3 weeks? Ah, the weeks he’s been fighting the hardest for as he try to pick himself up into pieces the night he was crushed? The night he did but didn’t expect it the most? The night the universe misaligned with the accord? Ah, finally, the night Sehun asked everything about them to be stopped. The night Sehun stated the finality.

The night the both of them made it over.

“Sehun.. Sehun, I miss you every night.”

He wasn’t able to refrain himself. He’s tired, tired of creating walls around him, tired of making himself settled with the thought that he’s gonna make it— tired of dealing with what could be the emotions he’d feel at the moment, or the current ones, he’s tired of getting himself into concept of repetition. Every day, every night is a battle day for Baekhyun. It’s as if everyday he convinces and feeds himself with the thought he can carry everything along already, just when the time he feels it doesn’t affect him anymore— everything falls into trash bin. With just a single memory, a single trail of thought, all about Sehun, every effort he exerts falls into deep abyss. What more with the male standing in front of him even?

The lad shakes his head.

He’s mad.

He’s mad he can’t read the emotions placard on the taller’s eyes, he’s mad he can’t hint what tone he’s using, he’s mad, he’s mad— is he, really?

“I miss you every night too.”

Baekhyun’s chest tightens. Is it the flickering inside him that due it? Consistently, he fails to know.

“But.. we can’t.. I can’t. There’s no undo button, Baekhyun. I need to be responsible for my decision.”

His eyelashes grace to kiss the crown of his cheeks, gaze lacing upon the former as he speaks with unknown volume, “Why does everything sound so easy for you, Sehun? Should I be sad? Should I be envious?”

In that momentum, he has heard the most unenthusiastic chuckle ever in his existence, and it was coming from the person he’s always thought of being painlessly beautiful.

“Ah, do I? Maybe, because I have no choice but to cover it all up. I rather keep it up all to myself. Baekhyun, I need to be responsible for my actions. We are touch moved.”

His words unfamiliarly and ironically made him think and list the reasons why he had love this person, and the absence within him pondered.

He had loved Sehun so much.

“Baekhyun, just give up.”

He still does.

As someone who had always embrace the idea of consistency, it’s fathomable that painful streaks of gradual changing are stabbing him invisibly.

It's not the freezing airy blows at nights that has been making him shiver for the past days, it's not the streak of orange light from streetlights hitting his face that makes him breathtaking yet he fails to notice it, it's not the creeping sound of the casual night roadtrips that make him aghast, it's not the sole solitude that leaves him quivering, it’s not the lonesome that he fails to grasp on— it’s not the living and kicking fact that there’s something he’s wanting to elude from but continuously fails as the bell of its constancy pounders and lingers on his mind either.

It’s the sole one raising reason.

It’s the fact that the man he gave and continues to give his everything on had given up, the battle is over.

Or is it, really?

False. Ever since the day everything was thrown to black hole, that’s where the battle started. Battle with himself, with his thoughts, traitorous memories, and feelings.

_It’s undefinable— how that something he’s been standing on for as a soldier came in a waste._

“Our house has been burnt, Baekhyun.”

They were just dancing in a burning room, but what could’ve been the worst thing to ever happen? It’s the fact, that in that moment, they were doomed. Nothing had save the deep and dying breath of the love they’ve worked on.

Three years.

Three years was a long ride.

“Baekhyun?”

He found himself shifting his gaze to the owner of the voice. A smile lingering on his lips as the male came to his eyesight.

“Chanyeol.”

Ah, how long has it been? How long has it been since he found himself settling into another home?

“What were you thinking, hm?”

Yet, nothing still beat the comfort of his old, gotten away home.

Baekhyun’s gaze plays with the lad, a smile still not leaving his lips.

“Chanyeol.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s not dance slow once our house started burning.”

Chanyeol might’ve found it weird, but the male laughed it off in a gentle way, bobbing his head up as he embraces the petite male across his protective arms and chest.

“We will not.”

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘰𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘉𝘢𝘦𝘬𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯.

**Author's Note:**

> some scenes were pursued with Jongdae’s Dear my Dear playing as the bg. stream Jongdae’s album!! xoxo. xx


End file.
